


I Melt With You

by Arrestzelle



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Established Relationship, Feeling B era, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:12:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22596082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrestzelle/pseuds/Arrestzelle
Summary: Paul and Flake share chocolate and listen to the rain.
Relationships: Paul Landers/Christian Lorenz
Comments: 8
Kudos: 28





	I Melt With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fouroux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fouroux/gifts).



> Das ist für Inchy. ♡

“Oh, shit! We forgot the most important thing.”

Flake looks up from his steaming mug of hot cocoa, his glasses a little askew on the bridge of his nose. Paul places his mug aside on the bedside table, and then launches up to charge right for the door. Flake watches him go, bewildered. He brings his mug up to his face with long, careful fingers and breathes in. The rich scent overwhelms him and has him closing his eyes. He experiences a moment of serenity, sitting on the bed with crossed legs, listening to the heavy pattering of the rain beyond the slightly ajar window of Paul’s room. Considering it’s a summer rain, it’s not cold. Just a little chilly. It’s quite nice.

And then Paul bursts back into the room, jolting Flake out of the lulling state he found himself in. He looks up to see him rushing back to fling himself on the bed.

“Ay!” Flake exclaims, holding his mug high to avoid spilling. The jostling of the bed has a few droplets sloshing onto the sleeve of his sweater. Paul sits up and holds something out proudly before Flake could even vocalize his annoyance. Lowering his mug back down, Flake squints, taking notice of the small bundle of chocolate in his grasp. Aljoscha brought them the chocolate as a gift from the West a week ago. They had saved it for a rainy day—not quite literally, though. Paul is beaming at him, [his styled hair](https://66.media.tumblr.com/a405d04af6fb5add1b82573a00d7a152/fc7e87275f627202-b8/s500x750/74e1208378d8860f84b5f7bf9594bf027f6760db.jpg) wild around his hairline.

“Now is as good a time as any, right?” Paul asks, while unwrapping the foil noisily, moving to cross his legs—mimicking Flake’s position. Flake watches him, saying nothing as he takes a drink of his hot cocoa. Paul holds out a piece for him. Flake brings one hand from the mug to reach out for it. Paul snatches it back and eyes him disapprovingly. Flake furrows his brow.

“What?” he asks. Paul reaches out with the chocolate again. Flake realizes what his intentions are when he brings the chocolate to his face. Flake slowly, reluctantly opens his mouth. Paul slots it in-between his teeth with a smile. The taste envelops Flake’s tongue: sweet, with a hint of bitterness. Flake chews, humming with satisfaction. Paul grins. He pops a piece into his mouth as well. For only a moment, they’re both silent, sitting together on Paul’s bed, listening to the rain as they enjoy the rarity of the chocolate with a richness and a quality one can find only in the West.

Flake savors it. He chews more than he really needs to. He lets it sit in his mouth longer than necessary. He bathes his taste buds in the texture and flavor of the silky chocolate, eyes fixed down on the murky, chalky surface of the hot cocoa. And then a hand invades Flake’s field of view; Paul is reaching out across the distance between them to take Flake’s big hand, resting limply by his folded leg.

A warmth amplified by the hot chocolate blooms in his face. Flake shyly meets his gaze. Paul is looking at him with smiling eyes as he takes a drink of his own hot cocoa.

“Shouldn’t you be looking at the chocolate like that, and not me?” Flake mumbles, fingers twitching in Paul’s grasp, as if eager to break free and scratch at his chin or ear as he always does when he’s nervous. Paul snorts. He begins sweeping his thumb over the back of Flake’s hand, and it has his heart leaping in his chest. Flake swallows hard. Paul speaks, lowly.

“I’d say you’re just as sweet and delicious as the chocolate, Flake. Why shouldn’t I look at you in this way?”

“Eww,” Flake makes a face, grimacing, “That was so cheesy. Don’t make me throw up, Paul.”

Paul grins, bearing teeth and crow’s feet. Flake’s insides tingle at that. He wets his lips. Paul notices with a flick of his eyes. Flake knows what his stupid boyfriend is going to do before he even does it. Paul turns away—without even breaking the contact on their hands—and sets down his mug again. He faces Flake and reaches out to gently pry his hot cocoa from his hand, repeating the process of placing it out of harm’s way.

“Oh, here we go,” Flake mumbles. Paul giggles as he releases his hand and begins crawling over him, calmly and slowly, without urgency or impatience. Flake adjusts himself to accommodate the other man; he moves to lay back against the pillows, his long, gangly legs unraveling and stretching out from their previously crossed position. He accidentally knees Paul in the leg during this adjustment.

“S-Sorry,” he stammers, looking up at him with wide eyes. His glasses are now halfway up his forehead, knocked out of place when he had laid his head upon the lumpy pillows. Paul clicks his tongue.

“No, no—no sorry’s allowed here,” he chides gently, reaching up to gently ease off his circular glasses. He sets them aside, on the windowsill. Flake laughs nervously, a grin growing on his boyish face. Paul’s ponytail is beginning to slide past his shoulder, dangling towards the younger man.

“What, even if I k-knee you in the balls?” Flake stammers, laughing with a blatant tone displaying his flustered state. “No sorry’s allowed then?”

“Nope,” Paul answers plainly, eyes greatly amused, “Even if I die. Be unapologetic with me, Flake.”

“I... Think I would be pretty sorry if I killed you by kneeing you in the balls.”

Paul snorts, rolling his eyes with that cute pursed smile of his. Flake swallows hard, breath hitching, when Paul gathers his wrists in his hands and gingerly pins his hands up by his head among the swarm of pillows. Without much prompt, Paul leans in to firmly push his mouth against Flake’s. Flake had opened his mouth to make a remark, so their teeth knock together rather clumsily. Paul slides his mouth away if only to momentarily laugh against Flake’s chin, and then he’s correcting his position to kiss him again, while snickering. Flake’s face is a burning flame at this point.

The chocolate taste is strong in Paul’s mouth, especially on his tongue when he slides it into Flake’s mouth. Flake releases an unintentional grunt, shifting under Paul’s weight. Paul hums softly, a light moan. They begin to kiss heavily, a bit abruptly for Flake. Their tongues meet (Paul shamelessly, Flake shyly), swapping the taste of each other and the sweetness of the chocolate. Flake distantly thinks it was smart of Paul to remove his glasses. They would be smashed into his face at this point.

Paul releases his wrists. Keeping himself raised, Paul manages to maintain the intense kiss, mindlessly mashing his lips against Flake’s, as he brings his hand down to slip it under Flake’s sweater. He maps his touch across his flat stomach, fingers outstretched and devouring the soft feeling of his pale, dotted skin. Flake shudders, violently. Paul smiles against his mouth. The kiss naturally dissolves into something slower, more close-lipped. Flake pants heavily below him, eyes cracking open slightly to look at Paul’s face as their mouths gently overlapped.

Breaking away momentarily, breathing hard himself, Paul sits back. He looks down at Flake with hooded eyes and a warm smile. Flake feels visually engulfed by that stare. Like Paul is completely claiming control over him through gaze alone. Paul continues smiling lightly as he pulls up Flake’s sweater, to strip it off of him with a weak noise of protest from the younger man and an awkward tangling of his arms in the sleeves. Flake emerges from the thick sweater with wild bleached hair and wide eyes. Paul grins broadly. He tosses the sweater away, and leans in to nuzzle into the side of Flake’s face. Flake blushes.

“Wrap your arms around me,” Paul says quietly. Flake’s stomach twists happily at that. He obeys; he immediately winds his lean arms around Paul, hands gripping at his shirt. Paul kisses his way from Flake’s red hot cheek, back to his lips.

“You’re really hot, you know,” he murmurs against his mouth, which has Flake freezing. Paul purses their lips together following this statement. Flake weakly, dimly kisses him back. Paul pulls back again, just enough to meet his dazed stare. He smiles sweetly at him, eyes warm and tender. Flake’s brow is furrowed.

“And what compelled you to say that?” he asks, disbelieving. Paul continues smiling at him in that way that has warmth simmering in his chest.

“The truth,” Paul answers, and then lightly kisses him again. Flake squeezes his arms around his smaller boyfriend and closes his eyes. Paul moves to lay on top of him. He angles his body just enough to avoid crushing him, his front aligned with Flake’s side, leg strewn over his thighs. Flake slides his hand up over Paul’s back to bring it to his head. With his long fingers cradling the side of his face, thumb on his cheekbone, Flake lets himself drown in the intimacy of the kiss. Their mouths tenderly move together, and he can feel Paul’s smile when it grows.

“I love you,” Paul murmurs against his bottom lip, teeth catching on Flake’s skin, “And I’m glad to call you mine. You are mine, you know that, right?”

Flake sucks in a shuddering breath. He opens his eyes shyly, to find Paul staring at him with deep intent in those smoky irises. Flake swallows hard, heart pounding. He nods a little, speechless. His eyes latch onto his thumb resting against Paul’s cheek. He begins stroking him there, becoming aware of his ability to do so. Paul grins.

“Let me hear it,” he says. Flake blushes.

“Paul,” he murmurs, voice low and shy, “I-I can’t… When you put me in a position like this.”

“Do it for me,” Paul encourages quietly among the lulling pattering of the rain beyond the window, a siren’s call that has Flake’s reluctance and self-consciousness gradually melting away. He bites his lip, bashful. Paul decides sparing him the weight of his stare will make it easier. He begins nosing at his bleached hair, lightly kissing at his ear and cheek. Flake grins, shuddering—he feels Paul’s developing mustache tickle his skin.

“I love you, too,” Flake whispers, dragging it out of himself before he could swallow his tongue, squeezing his arm around him, turning his head to tuck his face into Paul’s neck among long locks of blonde. “And I am yours… You idiot.”

**Author's Note:**

> babypaulchen.tumblr.com


End file.
